


A Friend in Need

by Songbirdsara



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: (And also a secret soft kitten), Canon Compliant, Friendship, Gen, Happy Birthday Otabek Altin, M/M, Yuri Plisetsky is a Brat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 22:23:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21260600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Songbirdsara/pseuds/Songbirdsara
Summary: Otabek Altin takes some time to train with Yakov Feltsman and the rest of the St. Petersburg Crew. Friendships develop and grow.





	A Friend in Need

**August, 2015**

Otabek blinked up at the façade of the Yubileyny Sports Palace as his bike rolled to a stop. He’d been hesitant when his coach had suggested taking a year to train with Yakov Feltsman. He wasn’t intimidated, no matter what his little sister had teasingly suggested when he’d been packing. He’d skated in larger rinks. He’d _ medaled _ in larger rinks.

And it wasn’t the change in location that had made him hesitate. He’d trained in Denver, in Montreal, in his home of Almaty…not to mention all of the cities he’d competed in. In his nearly 19 years, Otabek Altin had spent a _ lot _ of time traveling. That was the life he’d chosen, somewhat stubbornly, at a young age--a career as an internationally competitive athlete, despite having neither natural talent nor abundant resources.

Still, it had led him back here. To the place where he’d watched a young Yuri Plisetsky move with unimaginable grace and fire. A tiny soldier in the service of their sovereign, the ice.

This was were he’d decided that he’d find a way to succeed. This was where his life as a sort of vagabond warrior had begun. Where…

*****THUD*****

Otabek almost smiled at the feel of the foot planted firmly in the small of his back. “Hello, Yura. It’s good to see you, too.”

“Yeah, yeah. You looked constipated or something. It can’t have been _ that _ bad of a flight, stop being a pansy ass.”

Otabek turned, smiling at his friend. It hadn’t been long since he’d seen the Russian teen; they’d both been part of Victor’s somewhat chaotic ice show earlier that summer. They had even shared a room at Yuuri Katsuki’s family home. Still, Otabek realized with some surprise, despite the brief separation, Yuri had _ grown_. They’d been nearly eye-to-eye back in June, but he rather thought he’d have to give the edge to Yuri now.

“What the fuck are you staring at?” Yuri snapped, even as he ran envious hands over the leather seat of Otabek’s rental bike.

Otabek shrugged. Growth spurts were a touchy subject, even among _ less _ touchy skaters. “We still on for tonight?” he replied instead, steering the conversation in a safer direction.

Yuri beamed, suddenly looking like the 16-year-old boy he was beneath his gruff exterior. “Hell yeah! I bet St. Petersburg has _ way _ better clubs than Almaty!”

“We’ll see,” Otabek replied as they finally made their way up to the rink entrance, skate bags hanging from their shoulders.

“Plus, the clubbing age is only 16 at a lot of places here, so I can actually _ go _,” Yuri continued as they stepped through the doors.

“Do you go with your rinkmates much?” Otabek asked. In his peripheral vision, he saw Yuri shrug.

“Eh, they’re pretty lame. Katsudon’ll go sometimes. Mila if she’s not busy flirting. Georgi used to, but he’s seeing some church mouse type now.”

“Victor?” Otabek asked, genuinely curious.

Yuri shuddered. “Only if Katsudon promises not to drink.” Otabek glanced over, raising an eyebrow in query. “Ugh, you fucking saw them after _ Victor and Friends_. Those two, plus alcohol, plus dancing? No. No thank you. Fucking gross.”

***

Otabek really shouldn’t have been surprised when Yuri invited Yuuri and Victor out with them that night. They’d officially been friends for less than a year, but Otabek was well aware of Yuri’s tendency to say one thing while meaning something completely different.

The music in the club was passably decent, the pulse low and sultry in the warm night air. Otabek leaned against the side of the booth they’d claimed, nursing his second bottle of beer. Yuri had just finished his first, despite his aggressive posturing with Victor earlier that night—16 was old enough for beer, _ thank you very much! _

Yuuri and Victor, however…

Well, Otabek was beginning to understand why Yura professed to dread social outings with the pair. And maybe even why his friend chose to hang out with them anyway.

“Otabek. Otabek,” Yuuri was saying seriously, despite the way Victor’s hand was definitely dipping too low on the Japanese skater’s thigh under the cover of the table. Otabek decided he needed to keep very steady eye contact, tonight. And probably any time the pair of practically married skaters were drunk together.

“Hmmm?” Otabek finally responded, realizing belatedly that he should probably acknowledge Yuuri’s rambling.

“’Sgood you’re here,” Yuuri slurred, Victor nodding owlishly at his side.

Otabek’s eyes flickered nervously up to where Yura was ordering at the bar. “Ah, I’m grateful that Yakov was willing to take me on this season…” he said hesitantly, nervously taking a swig from his beer.

“Nooooo,” Victor said, too loud even in the noisy club. “It’s good you came for _ Yura! _ He’s been so lonely!”

Otabek nearly spat out the beer. “Ummm, we’re not…that’s…” His eyes automatically darted over to where he’d last seen his younger friend.

Victor leaned over to pat Otabek’s shoulder (and Otabek tried desperately not to think about where he’d last seen that hand). “I just meant that it’s nice for Yura to have a friend his own age.” The Russian legend’s face twisted in a pout. “He thinks I’m _ old _.”

Otabek was beginning to feel like joining the St. Petersburg rink might be dangerous for his health.

**September, 2015**

The mild fanfare that always seemed to follow the Grand Prix assignments had come and gone, and the rink had settled into what seemed to pass for normal.

Currently, normal involved Mila Babicheva attempting to convince Otabek to let her skate around the rink while she carried him, piggyback style.

“Don’t let her do it, Beka,” Yura warned as he sped past. “_ Baba _ is scary. Don’t let her get her claws into you!”

Mila stuck her tongue out at her rapidly retreating rinkmate. “Brat. He’s just mad that Yakov won’t let him do any quads while he breaks in his new boots.”

Otabek half turned to watch Yuri as he moved into a series of broad crossovers. “Growth spurt,” he grunted.

Mila nodded. “Yeah. Sucks. I’m glad it’s not as bad for girls. We just get to deal with…you know…” she winked while gesturing her hands in a vague hourglass shape in the air. 

The back of his neck felt a little warm. Were the lights in here too bright? They should really look into that…

“Mila!” came a piercing shout. “Leave Otabek alone. If I don’t see footwork from you in the next 60 seconds, I’ll pull you from Skate America! See if I don’t!”

Mila rolled her eyes. “Duty calls! It’s Yakov’s rink, we just skate in it,” she said breezily as she skated off into a series of twizzles that took her past the grizzled coach. 

A low chuckle reached Otabek’s ears and he glanced over his shoulder, unsurprised to find Victor and Yuuri flanking him. Victor was smiling ruefully, while Yuuri looked vaguely worried, the Japanese Ace’s eyes squinting in Yura’s direction. 

Ahead of them, Yuri two-footed the landing on a triple loop, barely catching himself from tumbling to the ice. Otabek hissed out a sympathetic breath, hearing the older skaters echoing his dismay.

_ “D’ermo,” _ Victor swore softly. “He’s not going to be happy after that.”

“He’ll get past it,” Otabek said calmly, his belief in his friend’s abilities too strong to have any doubt. “It’ll be fine.”

***

It wasn’t.

“Yakov wants me to pull out of the Grand Prix, focus on getting ready for Nationals,” Yuri said as he kicked at a locker in frustration.

“It’s not an Olympic year,” Otabek pointed out. “You don’t need the Prix as a qualifier for Worlds. Wouldn’t an injury be worse than pulling out?”

Yuri snarled. “This might be my last chance to beat Victor.”

“Victor, who will be at Russian Nationals,” Otabek replied calmly.

“That’s not…_ augh _ , it’s not the _ same _, Beka!” Yuri huffed.

“Because it’s not just Victor you want to beat?” Otabek asked, zipping his bag up as he watched his friend speculatively.

Yuri slumped. “I should have been on the podium at Worlds,” he muttered. “Victor made the podium his first Senior Worlds. _ You _ made the podium your first Senior Worlds.”

“Katsuki didn’t make it his first year,” Otabek replied, his voice even. “And I didn’t make the podium this year.”

“Which is _ stupid! _” Yuri burst out. “Your jumps are cleaner than Chulanont’s, you should have taken bronze!”

Otabek shrugged. “His PCS was a lot higher, though. I struggle with that. It’s part of why I’m here. The skaters here have some of the best pcs scores in the field.”

Yuri scoffed. “Fucking Katsuki. He’s why you’re here?” There was something vulnerable and hurt in his wide emerald eyes.

“Katsuki. Nikiforov. Popovich,” Otabek stood up as he spoke, crossing to where his friend had slumped back against the lockers. He put his hands on his friend’s shoulders, noting once again that the younger teen was taller than him, now. Otabek shook Yuri, forcing the boy to meet his eyes. “_ Plisetsky _,” he said with emphasis.

“What, you want to learn from _ me? _ I didn’t even place at Worlds,” Yuri said, eyes bright with unshed tears.

“You still hold a world record. That’s something I’ve never done,” Otabek said, matter of factly.

Yuri smirked. “Fine. You can be my padawan.”

“Nerd.”

_ “Tch _, Star Wars is fucking great and you know it.”

Otabek smiled. “Help me Obi-wan Kenobi…”

“Ohmygod, shut _ up _!”

**October 28th-31st, 2015**

In the end, a stress fracture achieved what Yakov Feltsman could not. Yuri Plisetsky pulled out of the Grand Prix series, his slots at Skate Canada and Rostelecom being filled by Minami Kenjirou and a lower ranked Russian skater, respectively. Mila and Victor both won gold at Skate America, thrilling the majority of the rink, but casting a grim pall over Yuri whenever he made brief appearances between his limited physical therapy.

Yuri didn’t bother coming to see them off at the airport for Skate Canada.

“Don’t let it get to you,” Yuuri said sympathetically. “He’ll come around, he’s just…” Yuuri trailed off, shrugging helplessly.

“It’s growing pains. Quite literally,” Victor finished, his tone sober for once. “You’re a good friend to him, Otabek. Don’t let him push you away. But don’t let him affect _ your _ performance either.”

It was good enough advice, Otabek supposed, but he had few enough friends that the snub still rankled. He tried to ignore it during the open practice. Tried to ignore it during the morning practice. Found the memory of Yuri’s ire far too present in his mind as he stepped on the ice for his 6-minute warm-up before the short program.

“You’re too in your head,” Yakov muttered as Otabek cautiously sipped at his water bottle. “Most of the audience won’t notice, but we’ve _ worked _ on this, Altin. The judges will dock your PCS if you don’t snap out of this funk.”

Otabek shrugged, his eyes catching on Katsuki, his head bowed as he listened to Victor’s last-minute advice. The Japanese Ace had dealt with his fair share of Yuri’s rage the last couple of weeks, but looked surprisingly relaxed despite the odd anxiousness that was blooming in Otabek’s own gut.

He shook his head, trying to settle into the calm that usually overtook him before a competition.

***

Fourth after the short program.

Could have been worse.

Should have been better.

***

“_ Oi! _ You fucking _ moron! _ We talked about this!”

Otabek blinked sleep out of his eyes. He hadn’t bothered checking the caller i.d. before answering the phone, still half-asleep after the long nap he’d taken after the short program.

“What, you’re talking to me now?” he muttered into the mouthpiece, his normally careful filter shot in the face of his sleepy surprise.

Silence settled over the line.

“Yura, I’m sorry, that was…”

“Don’t,” Yuri snapped. “I’m…look. I’m sorry. You’re right. I was angry, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. You’re the only friend I have, I shouldn’t…”

“That’s not true,” Otabek blurted in surprise.

“_ Haaah?” _

“You have lots of people that care about you, Yura.”

“Mmmmnnn,” Yuri whined, his tone doubtful. “Gross. Anyway, idiot, you’re holding your arms too stiff and you aren’t looking at the audience or judges. They give you points for that sort of shit. Why do you think Katsuki and the old man do so well? Total flirts.”

“So, you want me to, what, _ flirt _?” Otabek asked, aiming for serious for knowing Yuri could hear the tease in his voice.

“Ugh, don’t make me cut you with my knife shoes, idiot,” Yuri snarled half-heartedly.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Otabek said, smiling into the phone.

***

The silver medal was a comforting weight around Otabek’s neck, proof that he’d somehow recovered from his mistakes the day before. In his hand, his phone buzzed, a sound he’d had to ignore all throughout the press conference and awards ceremony.

Now, alone in the quiet of his hotel room, he finally thumbed the answer button.

“What, you couldn’t have gotten 6 more points? Knocked Katsudon off that damned gold?”

“Hi Yura, yes, I’m very proud of my silver, thanks,” Otabek said dryly.

“What? Yeah, yeah, nice work. Next time you’d better get gold. I need you to kick those disgusting morons’ asses at the Final since I can’t be there!”

Otabek leaned back on the headboard, not caring about the broad grin that was stretched across his face. “Sure, Yura, no problem,” he agreed easily.

“Cool,” Yuri said. “Oh. And, Beka?”

“Hmmmm?”

“Happy birthday.”

Otabek grinned. “Thanks, Yura. See you soon.”

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't resist writing a short birthday fic for best Kazakh boy, Otabek! Why haven't I used him in more fic? He's lovely, really!
> 
> Apparently this is now a tradition! Check out The Other Crispino for more birthday shenanigans!
> 
> Thank you to PeppyBismilk for the quick Beta read! You are a lifesaver!


End file.
